A Broken Alpha Heiress' Revenge (Riley) novel Chapter 137

Chapter 137

Riley’s POV

The woman’s se

scream fore

through the banquet

hall like a howl under a blood moon.

Sharp Guttural. Animal,

+8 Pearls

Then–thud.

Her body seized once before collapsing backward in a graceless heap. She had fainted from the pain.

But mercy was a luxury she’d forfeited.

Without hesitation, one of the Stormridge guards stepped forward and hurled a bucket of ice water over her face. The sound of it splashing against her skin was crisp–almost theatrical.

She woke with a gasping jolt, only to lay eyes on her own bloodied hand. Where her thumb had once been, there was only ruined flesh, swollen and pulsing. Her shriek this time was weaker, hoarse, but no less full of horror.

The man who had done it–her husband–stood paralyzed beside her, the bloodied blade still clutched in his trembling hand. His pupils had shrunk to pinpricks. His knees buckled, and he crumpled with a sob, the knife clattering uselessly to the floor beside him.

His tears flowed unchecked. But I felt nothing. Not a flicker of guilt.

Around us, the banquet hall had gone deathly quiet. The scent of fear–sharp, sour, distinctly lupine–hung thick in the air. I could hear hearts pounding, lungs holding back sobs, the shuffle of expensive heels trying to edge toward the shadows

Not a soul dared to speak.

Not when the air was laced with dominance and retribution.

Not when Riley Vale stood with her chin raised and blood on her hands.

The other three couples looked as though the Moon Goddess herself had cursed them on the spot. The husbands shook like leaves in winter wind, their wives sobbing, clutching at each other, hoping in vain to become invisible.

Lucien said nothing. He didn’t need to. He was my shield now but I was the sword.

They turned to me then. Not to him. To me..

“Miss Vale–please,” one of the remaining women cried, her voice cracking. “We didn’t know. We didn’t mean for it to go this Tar Please have mercy!

Another stumbled forward, nearly collapsing to her knees. “We were wrong. We admit it. You want punishment? Fine! Just not like this”

I stepped forward slowly, the hem of my moon–blue gown whispering across the marble. Every eye followed me. Every heartbeat seemed to pause

I looked down at them–those same women who had once looked at me like filth

Who had tom my robes.

Who had struck me

and called me a rogue niult.

me

“You think mercy is yours to beg for My voice didn’t tremble “Where was that mercy when you pinned tue down and Laughed

They solid harder

45PM p p.

Chapter 137

+8 Pearls

One of the husbands tried to shield his wife, stepping in front of her like a knight made of paper. “We’ll do anything.” he pleaded. “Just name it.”

I smiled. Not kindly.

“You said anything?”

His eyes lit with fragile hope. “Yes.”

rawl”

“Good.” I said coolly. “Then crawl.”

Their expressions cracked. Shocked. Disbelieving.

You heard me. I continued, voice calm and brutal. “On your hands and knees. All of you. Snarl your apologies like the she wolves you pretend to be. Show your belly. Bare your throat. Then drag your tongues across this floor and scrub your sins. from it. That is the only redemption I will allow.”

One of the women sobbed, “That’s–inhuman.”

“No.” I said, eyes gleaming. “It’s wolf.”

The hesitation lasted less than a breath. Under the weight of my command–strengthened by Lucien’s silent dominance behind me they dropped. Four high–society women, crawling like mutts before the pack

They lowered their heads, bared their throats, and began to growl apologies–low, forced, humiliating. Their growls trembled with shame and terror. The sound echoed across the hall like a dirge.

Tongues scraped over the marble. Blood and tears smeared into the polished surface as they dragged themselves forward inch by inch. For each step, they repeated broken apologies–snarling through clenched jaws, sobbing, sputtering as saliva and pride pooled at their knees.

Let them remember the sound of groveling socialites, once so high and mighty, now licking the floor beneath my feet like conquered bitches.

When they finally collapsed in exhaustion, I said coldly. “Take them outside.”

Made them crawl across the banquet carpet and into the open street, where the evening pack traffic had begun to gather Where dozens–hundreds of wolves could see what had become of them.

They didn’t shiniek. They couldn’t. Their voices had broken from too much groveling

I needed them to be seen

Humiliated not just by pain–but by submission.

When the doors closed again, the hall exhaled.

The true orchestrator. The one who’d whispered lies and stirred cruelty with manicured claws.

Blood oozed from her forehead as she threw herself down again and again in desperate bows. “Please please forgive me.

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